Noblesse Oblige
by JMK758
Summary: Archer and Enterprise make first contact with a surprising new race. But are their motives more than meet the eye?
1. First Contact

Disclaimer: The usual assurances to Paramount that we are all tired of but have to put in anyway as a true example of noblesse oblige. As always, this does not apply to Tia Anlor (ahn-lor), who I have sole possession of. She has appeared in several stories during her three months aboard Enterprise. This story takes place a month after 'Daasii'.

Rating: G

Tease: Archer and crew make first contact with a surprising race of humans. But are their motives more than meet the eye?

Noblesse Oblige

By JMK758

Prologue

"The planet is Beta Aragon 3, and we found out about it from the Vulcans." Admiral Forrest informed Archer from the viewscreen on the desk of his Ready Room. "Their technology is roughly similar to Earth's early 21st Century, though it is monarchial in government. They have several monarchies on the planet, but thus far we have been dealing with a Sovereign Akir. He seems to be king of the largest territory on the planet. But they have one thing that makes them unique."

"What's that?"

"The planet contains a vast abundance of dilithium." The news was welcome indeed. Dilithium is tremendously rare, and is the 'sine qua non' of warp flight. The vast energies produced by the mutual annihilations of matter and antimatter in the warp chamber, if not filtered through the complex crystalline lattices of dilithium, would produce an explosion of Enterprise that would be visible all the way to Earth – in about eight hundred and seventy five years.

"I'm surprised the Vulcans told us about it."

"They didn't, actually. A Vulcan trader named Suvlak tipped us off about them, and helped arrange contact by subspace radio. I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that the Vulcans are not of one mind on all things." Thinking back over their varied contacts with that rather taciturn race, Archer was inclined to agree – that the Admiral had a flair for understatement.

"Thus far, negotiations have gone well, but it is high time for personal contact. Our Science Board assures me that access to the volumes of dilithium that we can get out of this will advance our warp program to almost undreamed of levels."

"How much is 'undreamed', Admiral, if I may ask?"

"Put it this way: Right now you cruise at about warp 3 point something, and when you go above warp 4.5 you have to watch the rivets in the hull. How would you like to cruise all day at warp 6, with occasional headlong rushes at warp 8?" Knowing as he did that he was speaking to the son of Henry Archer, who had spent his life trying to develop the so-named warp 5 engine and had not lived to see its launch, he knew how the news would be received.

Jonathan Archer did not bother hiding his surprise, giving the Admiral the response he knew the other had anticipated. It would not be right, after all, to let his friend down. "I trust that this Suvlak has been well paid for his information."

"He got everything he hoped for. I suspect that most of what he wanted involved the curve he threw to the Vulcan government."

"I'm sure Soval was suitably distressed."

"I – err – haven't scheduled the meeting to tell him yet." Forrest responded with mock sheepishness. "I thought I'd wait until I had the signed treaty to show him."

Archer grinned. "I'll bring it to you personally. Archer out." Turning off the screen, he stood up and left the room, stepping out onto the bridge. All his other key officers were in their various places, it being less than three hours into alpha shift. "Travis, check the Vulcan database for Beta Aragon 3." He sat down in his command chair, seeing out of the corner of his eye the carefully restrained reaction of his Science Officer, a reaction he carefully avoided responding to. "Lay in a course and engage at best speed." He touched a control on his armrest. "Trip, would you mind coming to the Bridge? I've a surprise for you."

"On my way, Cap'n."

First Contact

"Captain's Personal Log: We have been in orbit about a planet that is remarkably earthlike, though nearly a thousand light years from our own home. So Earthlike, in fact, that the inhabitants seem almost human. At least our scans have been unable to discover any distinction between them and ourselves. I wonder what a closer examination will yield."

In the half hour following the recording of this entry in his quarters, Archer had not seen much from the bridge that would change his mind. With the exception of the shape of the continents, there was no significant difference at all between this world and his. The population ringed the southern edge of a continent that ranged from the northern pole to the temperate equator. It was broken up by a generous collection of seas, lakes and rivers, but for all intents and purposes it was one land mass. The southern hemisphere was primarily water broken up by scores of islands ranging from a few to several hundred miles in diameter.

The atmosphere was well within human norm, primarily nitrogen and oxygen with a wide variety of trace gasses. But the best thing of all in the air was a wide variety of radio signals, and an equally varied collection of spaceships arriving and departing.

They had been given the frequency used by Starfleet for official communications. They already had a sufficient database of the primary language before they arrived, but Archer ordered more monitoring and updating of the Universal Translator before he ordered a contact along the frequency. "Hail them, Ensign."

"I'm getting a response. Go ahead, Captain."

"Greetings." Archer said, trying not to feel too much like a player in a 1950's sci-fi movie. This was real life, and very serious. "This is Captain Jonathan Archer, commanding the starship Enterprise, representing Starfleet Command of Earth."

He did not have to wait long. "Greetings, Captain Archer of Earth. We have been expecting you."

"Receiving visual signal on this frequency, Captain." Hoshi reported. At a nod from her Captain, Hoshi pushed a button and the image of the planet was replaced with that of a man. He seemed about early forties, though Archer mentally restrained himself from making assumptions based on human norms, no matter how 'normal' the man looked. He had a thin face, black hair brushed straight back off a high forehead, and he was wearing a black uniform jacket over black shirt, relieved only by golden ornamentation at the lapels, identical stars at each side, and golden unadorned epaulets on his shoulders.

In the moment of contact, the man had scanned each of the officers on the bridge, seemingly evaluating them and their potentials in an instant of scrutiny before focusing on Archer in the central seat. "I am Monec, Commander of the Sovereign's Personal Guard. We were told by your Admiral Forrest to expect your arrival. King Akir has been eagerly anticipating meeting you."

"We look forward to meeting him as well."

"I am informed that your landings are accomplished by a small ship. You may set down in the courtyard of our castle. I shall have a delegation to meet you. I do have one stipulation, however."

"What is that?"

"I ask for the details and specifications of yourself and all who will accompany you. I must know who I will bring into the presence of my Sovereign."

"No problem. We will transmit everything immediately."

"In that case, I anticipate your arrival." The screen switched again to a view of the blue-green planet below.

"Doesn't waste a lot of time, does he?" Malcolm observed from his station at tactical.

"I shall take that as a cue. Malcolm, Hoshi, Travis, with me. T'Pol, have Trip and Crewwoman Anlor meet us in the landing bay. Would you please see to Commander Monec's request? You have the bridge."

---

On the Shuttle Pod the crew discussed the details of their mission while Travis Mayweather piloted the small ship toward the planet. "From what we know of it," Archer explained, "the culture is almost as advanced as ours, though they have not gone beyond their own system. They were met by the Vulcans about 70 years ago. Their culture is reported to be very traditional, and their methods of doing things are, I understand, somewhat formal. We're to treat this as a First Contact, even though our worlds have communicated by radio. Above all, we want to establish good relations with these people."

"And convince them to let us mine dilithium." Trip put in.

"Yes, that is of particular importance to Starfleet." Archer grinned at the thought. "I can just hear the Council now. 'Have him make friends, but get us the crystals.'"

"Captain, thank for choosing you me this mission for." Tia Anlor said in her characteristic fractured syntax. Born and raised on Aura, normally still thinking in that language, she often had problems with English. She had the words, but unless she was careful she slipped back into Auron grammar.

"That's quite all right. You've earned it."

"Speaking of earning …" Hoshi, seated beside her, whispered quietly, "…you look good in that uniform." The young Auran looked down at herself sourly.

"First time wearing am I it." She whispered. The blue flight suit, with its lighter blue piping indicating the Sciences division, fit her well, particularly complimenting her gold complexion, but… "I do fit in it not."

"You'll get used to it." Hoshi assured her. "On away missions, we present a united front."

Tia looked at herself again, no more pleased. Though it 'fit', if that was Hoshi's view, it was a bit snug about her chest. "Feel like a spleegel." Despite herself, Hoshi burst out laughing.

"What's up?" Malcolm asked. They had heard, and studiously ignored for the most part, the women's whispered exchange, but Hoshi's surprised laughter simply could not be ignored.

"Nothing, Lieutenant. Sorry, I can't translate that." She giggled. It went back to an old conversation she had had with the golden girl, and referred to a hot meat confection one ate by squeezing it from a tubular wrapping. Trip Tucker might enjoy the analogy, but she doubted he would appreciate anyone else knowing it.

"We're coming up on the castle." Travis announced.

---

It was indeed a castle, a huge stone structure set in the middle of a sprawling town, clearly the latter having grown up around the former. The almost medieval structure, complete with pennants flying from the tops of several towers and a sprawling courtyard surrounding an inner keep, large enough to farm sufficient quantities to feed everyone inside for weeks, all enclosed within high walls of stone, seemed out of place in a technological society such as reflected in the town that it had given birth to, and likely said a great deal about the culture the Enterprise crew had come so far to make contact with. "How old would you place this at?"

"I'd say about 500 years if it's a day." Tucker answered, checking the sensor readings.

"They keep it well. It looks like it was just built last year." Malcolm said admiringly.

"And the city?" Archer wanted to know.

"Well, Cap'n, that does look like it was built last year. Modern materials all around, water distribution efficiency seems high, waste management good, air quality better than anyone in our 21st century could hope for."

"I'd say they were quite modern, with a high traditional element." Malcolm concluded.

"That fits with what Admiral Forrest could tell me."

Travis piloted the shuttle pod around the castle in a slow circle before coming back over the courtyard, and then turned the shuttle. It might have looked from the ground like he had been aligning it so the door would face the castle. Actually, the fly-by had been designed to give everyone a panoramic view of the castle, the city and all else visible before coming in for a landing. As the pod lowered to the ground almost dead center in the courtyard, activity in the enclosed space was increasing by the moment.

There was, of course, the surprise of the occupants, few of whom had been informed of the arrival of a space-going vehicle within their sanctum; but of particular interest was the phalanx of black uniformed soldiers who approached the pod. "Malcolm, you do see what I see?"

"Yes, sir." The tactical officer stared in wonder. In case the appearance of what they saw masked a subtle misdirection, such as the whip they had encountered months ago from alien invaders to Enterprise which instead threw bolts of energy, Reed scanned the approaching men carefully. "Not energy or projectile weapons, though scans show they have such devices on their persons, and plenty of them throughout the castle. Those actually _are_ swords." He finished with a sense of wonder.

There were eleven men approaching in two files, the eleventh man leading the ranks. All were dressed in unrelieved space black uniforms, save for the gleaming silver swords which they held at 'carry' in their right hands, blades upward and touching their shoulders. Silver scabbards hung at their left hips. The sword of the man leading the contingent, who they now recognized as Monec, was trimmed in gold at pommel and guard, was still in its gold trimmed scabbard. The lines stopped dead behind their leader, whose hands were at his sides. He turned them, palms forward, as if to show that he was 'unarmed'.

"Let's go." Shaking themselves loose from their fascinated surprise, the Enterprise crew followed their Captain out of the pod.


	2. First Words

Chapter Two

First Words

When the Enterprise crew, led by Captain Archer, stepped out of the pod the troops reformed their lines, the rear moving smartly outward to form a line behind their chief. As Archer stepped forward, Monec did the same, the two men closest to him moving smartly forward to flank him. When the two leaders stopped about three feet from one another, the soldiers stood at opposite sides so that the quartet formed a diamond pattern. They remained erect and silent, but watchful, their swords still at carry. The implication was not lost on Archer. They were Honor Guard; but if Archer were to do anything untoward to their chief, he was sushi.

"Captain Archer, it is with great pleasure that I greet you, and welcome you to Castle Akir on behalf of our most gracious Sovereign. He bids you and your officers to accompany me to the Chambers of Reflection that have been prepared for you, where I am to instruct you on protocol, and then he will greet you in the Hall of Audience."

Archer was pleased that he had ordered Hoshi to ensure that the UT was up to date on the language; it sounded as though they had a good match. Monec's lips did not match the words they heard, but at least they could be sure of a proper translation. He introduced his officers, trying to match the other's formal manner.

In diplomatic situations, it was difficult to know how to proceed. Too much like the other's lead, too little like yourself; too much like yourself, too little like the other; it was a quagmire that had buried a lot of well intentioned diplomats, and Archer did not care to join them. He noticed, however, the man's carefully restrained surprise when he introduced Tia. Unlike the others from Enterprise, Tia's skin was golden, her long flowing hair much more gold than blonde, even the irises of her eyes were gold, all due to the high quantity of that element in her planet's biology, rather than humanity's red iron.

"I am pleased to meet you all. I am informed that your crew is made up of representatives from several planets."

"Yes. Our Science Officer is from Vulcan, our Chief Medical Officer is from Denobula, and our Exobiologist," he indicated Tia with a wave of his hand, "is from Aura."

"Fascinating. Of all the species that have landed here in the past, yours is the first bearing representatives of more than one world. I look forward to learning more. But until then, would you join me?"

As they started out, Hoshi noticed that Tia was staring at everything in wide-eyed fascination, her breath coming fast and sharp. "What's wrong?" She whispered as quietly as she could.

"First … time this a new world on is." The girl replied breathlessly, eyes gleaming. "So … so …"

Hoshi smiled. "I remember my first time. It was on Mars."

"Elizabeth said this I enjoy would." Tia whispered to her. But then her expression turned puzzled. "Said she I my losing my cherry would forget never."

Hoshi bit her tongue very, very hard.

But Tia still looked puzzled. "Said she also, when told you I did, I to ask you was if liked you the … oh, what were the words? I … something about 'trap your boobie'?"

"Booby trap?" Tia smiled.

"It that is." Hoshi's own smile turned slightly dangerous.

"I assure you; Liz and I will talk."

---

Monec led Archer toward the castle, the others falling in with them. While there was no particular formality to the group from Enterprise, Reed's practiced eye could not possibly miss the layout of the troops that escorted them. Three in the front, two on the outer sides flanking behind Monec and Archer, two more to either side of and behind Malcolm, Trip and Tia, and three more ranged behind Travis and Hoshi. There was nothing casual about the arrangement, and though their manner was strictly that of an Honor Guard, Malcolm deliberately kept aware of the exact position and angle of the phase pistol secured at his hip and kept his hand away from it. He had no desire to lose either one.

But if it came down to it, he was a most accomplished fast draw, and was certain he could hit eleven moving targets in half that number of seconds. He devoutly hoped he would not be called upon to test that certainty.

As they entered and moved through the castle, they found it was far from what they expected. Far from being laden with antiques, it was about as modern a setting as any could anticipate. The clothing of those that they passed, though alien to them, could not be said to be antique, everything was functional and very much in keeping with a '21st century Earth' culture they had been lead to expect. They even reached the second level not by stairs, but by a large and perfectly serviceable elevator.

Everything was consistent and modern right up until they reached the Chambers of Reflection. Then, the change was startling.

As soon as they entered the large room, it was as if they had jumped 500 years into the planet's past. The furniture, what there was of it, was heavy and oaken, looking to be hand carved. Arrases covered the stone walls, depicting ancient events. The lighting was by candles, and three torches were set into the walls.

The Honor Guard remained outside the room, while their Commander entered with the surprised Enterprise contingent, and smiled at their obvious consternation. "Our 'Chambers of Reflection' are almost literally lifted out of the past. They are intended to remind those who enter that our traditions are carried forward almost unbroken from that time. We determine to carry the best of the past into an uncertain future. And the standards set for life then are no less diminished over the centuries."

"Is that why you have particle weapons concealed on your persons, and carry swords openly?" Malcolm asked. Monec regarded him thoughtfully.

"Your question gives you away, even if I did not know you are the Security Chief. Yes, swords would be of little use against modern weapons, but we use them as a reminder of our traditions and standards. It takes a particular discipline to use them. Of course, we are very good with them." He added with a cautionary note.

"But there has not been a war on this planet in almost 200 years. Even the city that this castle once protected has grown to the point where it looks now more like it protects us. The other kingdoms are little different. The days of feuding serfdoms are long gone, but certain traditions remain, and it is those traditions in which I must now instruct you.

"You will soon be expected to present yourselves in the Hall of Audience, which is a vast hall." With his hands he mapped out the dimensions and the positions of things within it. "It is twice as long as wide, and at the far end, upon a raised platform, are the thrones. When you cause an alarm by rapping seven times upon the door, once for each of the cardinal virtues; fortitude, prudence, temperance, justice, liberty, equality and truth, you will be questioned. If your answers are satisfactory, you will be admitted. There shall be arranged before you two parallel lines of my guardsmen, with swords drawn.

"You will stop two paces from the end of the line and the King himself will come down from the throne and through an arch of steel to greet you. He will bring you with him through the arch, and your second ranking officer should wait two seconds to follow, to allow each pair of guardsmen in turn to break the arch and come to 'present swords'."

"I can't say I'm thrilled with the idea of walking down a length of drawn swords."

"Malcolm." Archer reprimanded sharply, but Monec raised his hand.

"Not at all, Captain. I would not think much of your Security Chief if he did allow his Captain or crewmates to do so without objecting." He looked at Reed. "What would you suggest to resolve this?"

"Well, we will have our phase pistols…" He looked questioningly at Monec, who nodded. "There is an old time position for use with small weapons called 'salute arms'." He pulled his pistol from his hip and demonstrated, holding the weapon at his chest, his arm, hand and pistol at a 45 degree angle. "It would be an acknowledgement of the salute by your guardsmen, since you say they will be at 'present swords'." Monec looked pleased.

"I have been to this point with six races. None of them have come up with so simple and elegant a solution. And frankly, it is a relief not to have an hour long debate on the subject. You may indeed keep your sidearms. Just do us the favor of not shooting our Sovereign."

"I'll try to avoid it." Malcolm agreed wryly. He'd decided he quite liked this Chief of Security; they understood one another.

---

Monec turned his attention back to Archer. "As I noted, the King will escort you under an arch of steel, your officers will follow after a two second pause in order of rank." He looked at Trip, and the Commander knew it was more from the information T'Pol had downloaded than from interpreting the rank pips on his chest. "You must not step beyond the end of the line without invitation; a few inches back would even be preferable."

Again to Archer. "As I pointed out, there are three thrones on the platform. The center one, by far the most ornate is, of course, King Akir's. The other two are identical in every way. The throne on his Majesty's left is that of an advisor or counselor. It is a very honorable one, but distinctly subordinate to the King. To the King's right is the throne of a visiting Monarch, or an Ambassador representing the same. It marks the occupant as being as close to equal to the King as is possible to be. Installing a visitor there is saying to the assembled Lords and Rulers that this is a man of rank. The rank of one seated there is as close to that of the Sovereign as can exist without being the Sovereign himself.

"You will be offered the King's sword. Take it, but do not under any circumstances draw it. You may make what appropriate remarks you will, I am sure that you find much about it to admire. It is not especially ornate, but it was the sword of the first king of this realm, over 600 years ago, and has been preserved as the symbol of the Monarch.

"King Akir himself will place you in one of the two thrones, and I have no idea which he shall choose. Therefore, I cannot advise you any further."

"You have told us quite a bit already. I do have one question, however."

"Yes?"

"You said there were six other races that you dealt with in the past. Did they come for the same thing we seek?"

"Dilithium from our mines? Yes."

"Did they get it?"

"No."


	3. Arch

Chapter Three

Arch

Monec had just left them, and Archer was about to get down to some serious planning with his officers when there was a knock upon the door. At a signal from Archer, Trip stood and opened the heavy oaken door. Outside stood a seneschal bearing what was doubtlessly the King's livery of red and gold, and his Arms, a refulgent sun upon the horizon. "Compliments of His Majesty. You are to accompany me to the Hall of Audience." Trip turned back to the others.

"You were right, Cap'n. They don't waste a lot of time here." The group followed their guide through the many corridors of stone to meet with the Sovereign. Without specific instruction, they sorted themselves in rank and followed single file. Malcolm would have preferred the rear, where he could watch everyone, but as she had no rank by default that position fell to Tia. He only hoped she could be as good a guardian as she was a biologist.

They finally reached a door Archer judged from their path and the outside view of the castle to be roughly in the center of the tremendous structure. He would not have been surprised to find it was exactly in that center. There was a huge pair of doors before them that had to weigh over 200 kilos. Emblazoned upon the right one was the same Coat of Arms they had noted earlier, but rendered in greater detail, a refulgent yellow sun in a blue background, slightly above a brown horizon.

The seneschal led them up to the door and stood aside. "Knock." There was no knocker, and if the door was as thick as it looked a normal rap would not even be heard on the other side of the wood. Archer raised his fist and hit the door. It made a depressingly dull thud. He looked at the seneschal, whose face betrayed none of what he must be thinking about so wimpy a knock.

Raising his fist again, he pounded the door with the bottom of his fist as one might pound a table for emphasis, hitting it hard, rewarded now with a series of seven booming reports. Lowering his hand, he resisted the urge to shake it out. It had hurt. "Too much time in the center chair?" Commander Tucker whispered so quietly no one else heard, but Archer was cheated of a chance to retort by the opening of the door.

Seeing its thickness, he revised his estimate to be more like 300 kilos, but it was so perfectly balanced that the man within handled it with one hand. It was either that of he had the muscles of a gorilla. Archer really did not want to know which. "Who comes here?"

"Jonathan Archer, Captain of the Starship Enterprise, and five of my crew.

"What come you here to do?"

"We seek audience with King Akir." He replied, starting to get into the ultra-formal if antique wording.

"For what purpose?"

"My government has sent me to open a dialogue with the King."

"What does your government want?"

"To establish peaceful relations with yours."

"Go away." The door slammed in Archer's face with a thunderous boom.

Jonathan Archer turned to his surprised crew in consternation. But there was no way he was just going to turn around and fly off. Raising his fist, still aching though it was, he hit the door seven more times, even harder than before. A moment later, it swung open and the man within inquired "Who comes here?" as if he had not just finished a conversation with Archer seconds before.

The Captain recognized, however, what had gone wrong, and gave the same answers as before until he got to the last question, to which he answered "Dilithium."

"Wait until your request has been made known to the King." This time, when the door swung shut, it was not with a thunderclap.

"They're not big on prevarication, are they?"

"No, they're not."

---

When the door swung open a moment later, the man inside was as friendly as he had earlier been suspicious. "It is the order of his Majesty that you enter, and be received under an Arch of Steel." The door swung wide to reveal a huge chamber which had to be at least twenty meters to each side, and forty down the middle.

There seemed to be about a hundred people in the room, most of whom were dressed in fine formal raiment, clearly members of royal or noble houses. Banners stood in sections of the chamber, designating allegiances or nativities, Archer could not determine which. Clearly, however, whoever was here was most definitely 'somebody'.

Everyone was standing before seats arranged along the left and right long walls, about five meters from the walls, so that the two rows of seats were about ten meters apart facing one another.

Forming two parallel lines extending from the center of the chamber to the steps leading to the dais, facing inward about two paces apart, black uniformed soldiers stood at sharp attention. At the far end of the chamber, brightly illuminated, sat a man dressed in a robe of royal blue, the material trimmed in abundant gold at cuffs and hem. Upon his head gleamed a golden crown set at the front with a large clear gem Archer was willing to bet a month's salary was a diamond worth at least a year's. Telltale glitter upon the fabric of the purple trimmed thrones to either side told of the reflections of red to his right and green to his left; a ruby and an emerald of similar size.

The man himself was tall and, as he rose they could see that he had not overly indulged in any soft or casual lifestyle. He looked much like any of the soldiers under his command, save for a full brown beard which gave his visage such a stern aspect that one had to look into his eyes for anything to belie that impression. As Archer led his crew toward the base of the lines, stopping a strict six feet from the end, the King stepped down from the dais and approached.

Monec, at the far end of the right file, commanded sharply: "Guard!" With a snap like quiet thunder all of the soldiers came from the 'carry swords' position to 'on guard', right foot forward and gleaming silver blade diagonal across their chests, about eighteen inches out. "Form Arch of Steel. Cut!" Forty blades rang as one. The King had not slowed his advance, starting through the arch at the instant of its creation. The King stepped up to Archer. "Most noble sir, I welcome you to my castle and planet. I invite you to join me."

Thus saying, he turned smartly and led Archer through the arch. As the captain passed, each rank of soldiers came from 'Arch' to 'Present', blade held at a 45 degree angle, grip level with the chin and about six inches out. As directed, Commander Tucker drew his phase pistol and held it pressed to his chest, hearing the others do so behind him. He led them through, each rank going to 'Present' just before he reached them, and he stopped directly before Monec, careful not to move an inch further until he saw what was going to happen on the dais, where even now the King had led Archer.

They faced one another, and Akir picked up a golden sword, still in its scabbard, from a table beside his throne. "I present to you this blade, once carried by Omar, in hopes of our peaceable conclave."

Archer took the sword by its middle, looking at it with, he hoped, appropriate admiration. He noted that he had not been told by Akir who Omar was, though Monec had already done so. He also noted that Monec had not told him just what he should do with the sword once he got it. He did, however, have a fair clue about what to do. "Your Majesty, this is a fine weapon; forged, I perceive, by a master craftsman and wielded with great honor." He extended it back, grip first. "May you ever wield it as such."

The King drew the blade from the scabbard, and Archer saw in the man's satisfied expression that he had done the right thing. The golden blade glittered in the lights as he held it. "Most noble sir, you are a fine Ambassador for your people, and as such we receive you. Pray be seated, that we may confer as equals." He extended the blade to the right hand throne.

Archer took the offered seat of honor, noting the expressions on the faces of many in the crowd. Most were pleased, but he noticed a few were less than enthusiastic. He knew he still had to act with great care.

The King placed the drawn sword and scabbard back on the table beside him and sat down. This seemed a signal for the other dignitaries in the room to be seated, leaving only the Honor Guard and the Enterprise crew on their feet. "Commander."

Monec returned his own sword smartly and led the crewmembers to a line before the thrones. As they cleared the lines, at an unheard signal the Guard came to 'carry', closed ranks, left and right faced toward the double doors and marched in unison through them, whereby the inner guard closed them.

"Your Majesty, may I present my Officers?" Archer asked with polite difference. "Chief Engineer Commander Charles Tucker." Trip returned his phase pistol to his hip and saluted smartly, much to Archer's approval. "Tactical Officer Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Pilot Ensign Travis Mayweather, Communications Officer Ensign Hoshi Sato and Exobiologist Crewwoman Tia Anlor." Each copied Tucker in turn, and then stood waiting at attention. The King scrutinized them minutely, then addressed Archer.

"I am told that you have representatives of many worlds in your crew. Are all these representatives of other worlds?"

"No sir. With the exception of Crewwoman Anlor, all are from Earth. Miss Anlor is from Aura." He again looked carefully at them.

"Of the same world?" Archer gave the countries of origin for each of his people, the King growing more surprised by the moment. "On our world, only the northern hemisphere is inhabited. We are, therefore, a more homogenized race. Not so, on yours?"

"No. Each of the places I named are separate from the others."

"I am sure the variety has proven very advantageous to all on your world. But do none of you represent the nobility on your planet?" They each deferred. "Then it is with your Captain that I may deal, as representative of your government. Commander, seats for our honored guests." Monec led them to five vacant seats on the right wall, the five closest to the dais, seating Tucker closest to it. "Captain, as Ambassador we receive you, and invite you to take full advantage of our hospitality."

"Then, your Majesty, if I may speak freely, I would like to say that while I have been sent by my government in their hope of obtaining a valuable resource from your people, that is the secondary interest. We primarily seek to establish friendly and diplomatic relations with your world, in spite of the … confusion … at the door." Akir smiled.

"Ambassador, I believe you are a man I can deal with. You would be surprised how many simply let that pass."

---

The preliminary discussions progressed well, primarily as an exchange of information about cultures. They learned that the Beta Aragons were a progressive people with a strong tie to the traditions of their ancestors, something that the crew had picked up on thoroughly. However, there was little talk of negotiations for mineral rights, something that Archer was quite content with. Despite Starfleet's orders, he was more of an explorer, and was perfectly willing to lay the groundwork, and then let others talk about the drilling.

---

After about an hour, the conclave was adjourned, and the crew invited to join the nobility for dinner after a brief period of refreshment. Commander Monec was detailed to be their guide to the suite they would use during their stay.

Thus it was that Archer and his crew were walking down a hallway on the second floor of the castle, and were just meters from an intersecting corridor when they heard a piercing shriek! Phase pistols were in hand even before a young woman tumbled across the intersection before them to come up hard against a stone wall. She was disheveled, her long blonde hair wild, and she wore nothing more than a wide band of beige about her chest and another about her hips. She lay stunned on the floor for a moment, and Archer was about to hurry to help her when Monec raised his arm, blocking him.

The woman turned over and looked up at them, extending an imploring hand. "Help me, please!" She cried. Her left eye was blackened; and large and small bruises decorated her almost bare body. She looked down the corridor from whence she had tumbled, flinching when she saw something, crying out to Monec again for help. A large man came up to her, grabbing her long hair and dragging her to her knees as she cried out in pain. "No, please!" She screamed in terror.

"Let her go." Archer pushed Monec's restraining arm away and stepped forward. The man looked up at him in fury tinged with surprise, while the woman's expression was of pained hope.

"Who the hell are you?" The man, dressed in black pants and white shirt, demanded.

"Captain Jonathan Archer of the Enterprise. Now let her go."

"This is no concern of yours, is it Monec?" Archer was surprised to see the Commander of the King's own Guard shake his head. The man, his hand still tightly wrapped in the woman's blonde tresses, addressed the Captain. "This wench has stolen, and deserves all she gets."

"I'm no thief." The girl, apparently in her late teens, protested painfully.

"Silence!" The man hit her in the face, hard, and she cried out, knocked to the floor where she lay sobbing. Archer was on the man in an instant, turning him sharply and how he ever restrained himself from punching the other he never knew.

"Captain!" Monec called, alarmed. The others readied themselves to support Archer, no matter what he did, but the Captain's attention was diverted to Monec. "You do not understand. Do not interfere." Archer returned his attention to the man in his grip.

"I don't like bullies." He said tightly. "Don't touch her again."

"I do what I will with my charge. Now remove your hand or I will remove your arm.""Captain, please." Monec urged. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it." The man brushed Archer's grip off, grabbed the crying girl by her long hair and pulled her to her feet as she cried out in pain, dragging her backward by her hair. Blood flowed from her nose, smearing most of the lower half of her face. He pulled her back along the corridor to a door at the left and slammed it shut. A moment later there was a piercing shriek and the door shook violently, the scream cut off and then there was silence. Archer turned on Monec in white fury.

"The girl is guilty, and had a choice. She willingly turned herself over to Strater. He is authorized to do whatever he will."

"What crime do you have that justifies this?"

"It is unlikely you will ever be guilty of it."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I'm afraid it will have to satisfy. Now, if we may, I will escort you to your suite, where you may all retire prior to dinner."

He led them down the corridor, but looks exchanged by the landing party showed that for all of them the taste of this world had soured.


	4. Cass

Chapter Four

Cass

When they were alone, in the large common room that centered six individual bedrooms, the crew had a chance to express their concerns. All had been shaken to varying degrees by the violence they had witnessed, and their inability to do anything about it. Trip Tucker said it best for all of them. "I don't care how much Earth needs this contact or the dilithium; I wish you had bashed his head in."

"Unfortunately, Trip, we can't always go with our first instincts. Much as it gripes me, we are not arbiters of their laws. We're here to establish peaceful relations."

"I don't think I can have 'peaceful relations' with someone who beats up girls, or condones it."

"Well, maybe when we have a treaty with them. Until then…" He left the rest unsaid. They all knew the score, even if none of them liked it.

"Well, what now?"

"I'd say we get ready for dinner. If things go as they have been, someone will be knocking on that door in…" he was cut off by a quick succession of raps. "…about two seconds." Archer finished wryly.

Tucker went to the door, not surprised to meet the red and gold liveried seneschal on the other side. "Compliments of his Majesty. You are invited to join him and the assembled Lords and Ladies in the Great Hall."

"We'll be with you in a moment." He closed the door. "Doesn't anyone take a breather on this planet?"

"I think we just did."

---

The Great Hall was literally that. Lavishly decorated, it had to easily be thrice the size of the Hall of Audience, and was dominated by a huge table which Mayweather swore had to have been carved from a redwood. It was immense, easily big enough to serve a hundred, and laden with enough food to satisfy twice that number.

The hall itself was trimmed with banners of all kinds, colorful and ornate, which the Enterprise crew could not begin to interpret, save that the King's arms bore a special place of honor over the head of the table. That worthy himself greeted them as they entered under the seneschal's escort, and in turn introduced them to just about all of the dignitaries assembled. There were far more than any of them could keep track of, and Archer was very pleased he would not have to remember more than a handful of them.

Music from unseen speakers signaled the serving of the first course, and the multitude was seated. Archer was accorded a place of honor at the King's right hand, beside him was Reed and Sato. From the King's left sat Tucker, Mayweather and Anlor. Ranged down from them were the varied Lords, Ladies and Peers of the realm. The Enterprise crew was fully cognizant of the honor conferred upon them.

A score of servers entered from the far doors, bearing tureens from which they ladled the first course of soup. Naturally the King was served first, but the Enterprise crew was more attentive to their server. The young woman with the long blonde hair was familiar indeed.

Clothed in a pale blue dress, her arms were bare to avoid sleeves brushing the meals, so nothing hid the bruises that spotted her flesh. She kept her head bowed respectfully, but no one missed the darkness of two blackened eyes. She moved carefully, but it was a care born of pain rather than caution.

Archer noticed particularly that Akir did not glance once at her.

When she had moved down the range of the table, serving each of her charges in turn, Archer confronted the King, managing more diffidence than he felt. "Your Majesty, that girl…"

"Yes." The man replied uncomfortably. "A sad case. I am sorry you should see her in that condition."

"We saw what _caused_ that condition." Archer said, trying to keep the tightness of outrage from his voice. "She was beaten, severely, by a man called Strater."

"That was his right."

"What justification is there for treating anyone like that?" The King's eyes turned hard.

"Do not presume to judge, Ambassador." He said warningly.

The dinner itself was delicious, rich and hearty. The conversation was convivial. The Enterprise crew could not be said to have had much appetite, or to have enjoyed it at all.

---

It was a subdued team that met in the common room of their suite three hours later. They had been assured that the business of the day was concluded, no one would be knocking on their door to invite them anywhere. It was time for some privacy.

"I know what you're thinking, Trip." Archer said as he leaned back tiredly into a chair so stuffed it could have passed for a bed.

"Maybe you do. But I'll say it anyway, just because I couldn't at dinner. They know she's being mistreated, I could see it in the eyes of this 'nobility' they gathered, but no one says a word. None of the other servants, or whatever they are, looks in any way uncomfortable, but between the times we first saw her and this evening that bastard used her for a punching bag, and not a one of them said anything."

"Trip, I know." He sat forward, much as he would have preferred to just give in to the fatigue he felt at having to walk a diplomatic tightrope all day. "What would you have me do?"

Trip was about to answer, but then stopped. And again. Finally he let out a deep sigh of frustration. "Same as them, I'm sorry to say. Nothing."

It hung in the deep silence for many moments, so that Tia's whispered "Quilyentes!" carried clearly. Archer turned to her in barely contained aggravation.

"What was that, Crewwoman?" Tia looked startled, and more than a little embarrassed at being overheard.

"Said I 'familiar' it was. Looked like that months ago I did." Archer restrained himself. He knew she was right, just as much as he knew she had lied. The Universal Translator was still on, and rendered everything in its range into English, save for an obscenity not contained in its database. What was more, they all knew she lied; particularly Hoshi. But she had given an explanation he could tacitly 'believe', and he had no desire to yell at her when she was thinking the same thing they were, and from a uniquely personal perspective.

"Captain, if I may?" Travis asked. At his Captain's nod, he continued. "I think that the faster we can reach an accord the faster we …" he caught Trip's glare, and his words trailed off in volume "…can get out of here."

"Fact is; you're right." Archer said briskly, cutting off any possible retort. "Let's focus on completing our mission. That is what we are here for; that's what Starfleet is counting on us to do. Diplomacy and dilithium, in that order. Then, once those are accomplished…" There was a knock at the door. But not quite a knock, more like someone was slapping it with an open hand.

Trip, feeling more like a doorman lately, went to it, determined that if it was the seneschal inviting them anywhere he was going to invite the man to do something physiologically impossible, or at least distinctly painful. He opened the door and staggered a half step back as a heavy body pushed it open.

The girl they had seen twice already was on the other side, her hand on the outer knob to keep herself almost upright, leaning heavily on the door. She was still wearing the pale blue dress they had seen her in at dinner, but the front of it was darkly spotted. She looked up at him, and there was blood flowing down her face. "Help me!" She whispered. "Please!"

She sagged down the door to her knees as Trip caught her, the rest of the crew behind him. With her in the hall was a black uniformed soldier, his back to the wall beside the door. Trip looked up at the man in disbelief as he held the barely conscious girl in his arms. "Hey." The soldier turned to look down at him. "She could have bled to death out here!"

"My orders were to keep your party safe." He looked at the girl seemingly for the first time. "She doesn't look like she could hurt anyone."

Trip decided he could bite his words or the guy's throat, so as the others lifted the girl off the floor and into the room he slammed the door hard enough to be heard aboard Enterprise.

---

Malcolm and Archer carried the girl to a couch and laid her upon it, giving their places up to Hoshi and Tia, who moved in to do what they could for her while the men stood off and let them work. There was little that had to be done, her bleeding was superficial, but the extent of her other injuries was quite clear. In addition to two blackened and swollen eyes, she had bruises on her face, down both arms and legs and covering most of her body that could be seen. Due to the brief clothing she had been in earlier, they knew these injuries covered most of her body. Some were fresh, some were days or weeks old, all were clearly painful.

But she was not unconscious, and looked at them imploringly. "Please." She gasped. "I'll do anything you ask. Don't let him hurt me any more. You can have anything you want, just make him stop hurting me. Help me! Please!"

For a moment, every eye turned to Archer, and he wished he could be facing down a Klingon battle cruiser.

Several minutes later the girl, whose name they had learned was Cass, was seated facing Archer, the rest of the crew ranged in the room behind him. She had been helped by Hoshi and Tia into one of the smaller rooms, where the blood could be washed from her face and she could be checked in more appropriate privacy for other injuries, but now she sat cautiously in a well padded chair facing the 'Starfleet Ambassador'.

With the blood removed from her face, though little could be done for the bruising which discolored it, hers was a very comely face indeed. Archer could construct a mental picture of how she normally looked; creamy complexion, pale blue eyes several shades lighter than her dress, beautiful face and a figure that would otherwise be called stunning. But now she was huddled in upon herself, fear and pain conjoining to disguise her beauty. "Why are you being beaten?"

"They say I stole something."

"They say. Did you?" She nodded.

"Yes. They say it and I did it."

"Can you give it back?" She shook her head.

"No."

"What is it?" She shrugged.

"Does it matter? They're right, and I'm guilty."

"Monec said you chose to go with Strater." She laughed bitterly.

"If I had known this, I would have chosen prison. This is not what I expected."

"You were sentenced to him?" She shrugged.

"You could say that. He was … assigned to attend to me."

"For how long?" She looked down.

"Until either he or I die. For the rest of our lives."

"What the hell could anyone steal that deserves that?" Trip demanded. She shook her head sadly, but did not answer him.

"What do you want of us? There's not a lot we can do to help you. We're not of this world, we'll be gone very soon, and likely will not be back. Even if our mission is successful, nothing in it will in any way affect the laws of your world."

"I know that."

"Then what do you want?" She looked up at him imploringly.

"Take me with you. When you go, take me off this planet!"


	5. Asylum

Chapter Five

Asylum

"We can't do that." Jonathan Archer told her, having feared she would make just such a request. He had not been disappointed. He did not look at his crew; he did not need or want their input. "You're an admitted … whatever. Even planets we have treaties with would not allow us to transport you off-world. We have nothing with this planet; that's what this mission is all about." She grabbed his arms desperately.

"Can't you at least protect me? Can't you make him stop _hitting_ me? He keeps hurting me and hurting me …" She broke down, sobbing. Archer gently disengaged her hands, moving back, silently signaling to Hoshi to approach. The Japanese woman sat down beside the crying girl, gathering her protectively into her arms and holding her as she wept. Archer stood up, stepping away, trying to distance himself from the girl. He met Tucker's eyes.

"Can't you, well, don't regulations have something to say about offering Asylum? She did ask."

"If we were on Enterprise… But this is their world, and she admits to being guilty. What grounds could we have?"

"Pardon me, sir…" Reed began differentially. "But aren't you decreed by His Royal Highness to be an Ambassador?"

"So?"

"Well, sir," he looked around the suite, "wouldn't that make this an Embassy?"

The idea had a really sweet taste, but "Aren't you playing pretty fast and loose with the regulations?"

"Maybe so. But as long as she came to us of her own free will, can't we at least keep her safe for a little while? And couldn't you … well … negotiate with King Akir? At least put the matter on the table? If not for clemency, at least for a sentence that doesn't involve someone beating the hell out of her?"

Archer looked back at the blonde girl sobbing in Hoshi's arms, perhaps feeling for the first time some slim ray of hope. "I'll do what I can."

xxx

"Absolutely not!" Monec, Commander of the King's Own Guard, declared emphatically when Archer told him about the idea the following morning. They were alone in the common room, the six surrounding doors shut. "I know what His Majesty will say. It's completely impossible."

"Why?"

"Captain, do not get above yourself. You have no idea what you are asking. There are factors here you can not imagine."

"I have a very fertile imagination. Tell me."

"Captain, that girl is … well, she is under the 'protection' of Strater, by the King's decree."

"Does what you saw yesterday look like protection?"

"By the King's decree." Monec repeated. "He is not likely to amend it. Strater is responsible for her. If he feeds her she will eat, if he clothes her she will wear it, if he beats her she will cry, if he beds her she will … well…"

"And this is honorable to you?"

Monec was clearly loathe to answer. "Honor, where that girl is concerned, has a unique definition."

"What do you mean?"

The officer thought it over, but finally; "Where is she?"

"Why?" Monec was surprised by the question. "If I tell you, what will you do?"

"Return her to Strater. It _is_ where she belongs."

"And what will he do?" Archer did not really believe he needed to ask, but he wanted to hear it from the man.

"Probably punish her for running away, for coming here. Now, where is she?"

Archer considered the question carefully. In fact, he had been considering the question carefully all night. "No."

"What?" Monec was vastly surprised.

"You heard me. No. I want to talk to His Majesty about this." Archer wondered if the man's eyes could open any wider.

"Are you insane?"

"It has been considered. But the fact is that no matter what she has done, I can hardly believe it warrants the treatment she has received. On Earth we have laws dealing with the treatment of criminals. Also, we have a basic code of ethics that determines how we treat anyone. She has asked us for aid, for protection against assault, and I am honor bound to answer that. At the very least, I am bound to discuss it with the King. Until then, the place she is in is where she will remain."

Monec stood up. "I shall inform His Majesty." Archer thought that what he saw in the soldier's eyes was relief.

xxx

The others had joined him in short order after the Commander had left, but no one was feeling talkative. All that could be said had been; it was now the King's move and Archer really was not looking forward to it. He felt he needed as much information as possible from Cass, but she stood in the far corner, her eyes fearful. She had come to them for help, and now was apprehensive about that help.

Over the late evening Hoshi and Tia had done what they could for her. She had bathed and she had washed her dress of the blood on it, as it was uncertain when she would be getting any other clothing.

There were very few plans that could be made in advance of knowing how the King would receive Archer's 'petition', and the Captain doubted they would be kept waiting long.

It was, in fact, twenty one minutes from the time Monec left until a seneschal arrived with a politely worded 'request' for Archer to accompany him to the Hall of Audience.

xxx

There was little ceremony involved in this meeting. Archer led his crew into the chamber, but this time the King did not greet him at the foot of the lines, nor was there an Arch of Steel. The number of 'noble observers' was not diminished, but before the crew of the Enterprise took their places Archer was very politely greeted on the dais and installed in the throne at Akir's left hand.

Nothing at all was said about the placement. Nothing at all needed to be said.

"Captain Archer," Akir began, fixing him with a firm stare, "you have come to us yesterday as a Representative of your Government, seeking to establish relations with us and to bargain for our resources of dilithium. I now understand that this has changed."

"Not entirely, your Majesty."

"Have I been misled?"

"No, sir. That is still our intention. However, we have particular concerns regarding the safety and treatment of one of your subjects. A young woman known to us as 'Cass'."

"As you say, she is one of my subjects. Of what concern is she to you?"

"Sir, all we have seen concerns me. The answers that we have to our questions regarding this young woman's crime are vague at best. I am forced to wonder about what conditions exist on your world as a whole, if violence against one of your own is condoned within your walls." He could see the man's irritation growing, and knew he had to tread carefully if he was to retain the diplomatic part of this mission intact. "On our world, we have a code of conduct known as 'Noblesse Oblige'. It is a very old standard, devised when many of our countries were monarchies. It refers to the idea that people born into the nobility or upper social classes must behave in an honorable, generous way toward those less privileged."

"And by the standards of this 'Noblesse Oblige', we are found wanting?" There was a diplomatic answer to this, and an honest one, and Archer had to choose; but he could not allow himself to back down or he would lose the force of his argument.

"Yes."

The King considered this for several moments.

"Captain Archer, you came to our world at the behest of your people, but I wonder if you are truly representing their best interests. I suggest you confine yourself to doing so, and give less concern to the treatment of our criminals. Perhaps you should contact your government, because if you do not feel you can represent their best interests, I believe they have the right to know this. Perhaps they may even choose to send someone else who can."

As a dismissal, and an ultimatum, it was well worded. Taking as 'polite' a leave as he could, Archer led his crew back out the huge double doors. When these closed behind them with grim finality, Archer pulled his communicator from the zippered pocket in his sleeve and flipped it open. "Archer to Enterprise."

"T'Pol here." Came the almost immediate response.

"Contact Admiral Forrest. When ready, patch the signal through to Shuttlepod One."

"Yes, sir." He closed the device, putting it away.

"What do you intend to do, Cap'n?" Trip asked.

"Meet me back at the suite. Tell Cass I am going to try one last idea. Malcolm, you're with me."

xx

"Well, Jon, less than twenty four hours. That's a record even for you." Admiral Forrest beamed happily on the 'com' panel.

"I'm afraid there's been a complication."

The black uniformed Admiral listened carefully to the story. When it was over he was silent for quite a long moment that had nothing to do with subspace lag.

"Jon," he said finally, "you're our man on the scene, and I am inclined to go along with your recommendations.

"However, you know how badly Earth needs this source of dilithium. Just as warp drive took us away from our own solar system, people here are counting on this vast supply of…" He sighed deeply. "Jon, you know where we stand. Much as I sympathize with this girl; and I grant you she is almost certainly not alone, that's something for the next set of delegates to address. Not you.

"It's your job to establish that beachhead, so that there _can_ be future diplomats who might in time accomplish something in terms of social … reform."

Archer could see that his friend was loathe to say what he was about to say, just as he knew what the Admiral would indeed say. "Your orders are to get that treaty, and the dilithium. This is your primary obligation."

"Yes, Admiral." Archer pushed the cut off button very carefully.

"Begging your pardon, sir," Reed said into the silence, "but what did you expect?"

"No less than I got. I had hoped for some leeway, however, even if not official sanction, if I could get the Admiral to see what was happening; that I think we're making a deal with the devil. Trouble is, he does, but he's under pressure of his own." For a moment he sat musing.

"If my dad could have had unlimited tons of dilithium to experiment on, to say nothing of stocking our ships, he would…" But then, a few moments later his expression changed, hardened.

"Sir?"

"I'm sorry, Malcolm. I'm just thinking of what my father _would_ do in a situation like this. Unfortunately, we don't have that luxury. Let's go."


	6. End Game

Chapter Six

End Game

When Jonathan Archer and Malcolm Reed entered the suite, acknowledging the salute of the guard posted outside their door, his crew knew just by looking into his eyes and seeing his bearing just what was to come. No one said a word as he looked at Cass, who stood in the far corner, apprehension etched on her bruised face. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand."

"I'm under orders from my commanding officer. I am to focus primarily upon my mission." He suddenly felt a great desire to sit down, as the events of the past two days took their full toll on him. The overly cushioned chair was just overstuffed enough to be uncomfortable as he sank down deeply into it. He hated trying to get up out of it, and wished he'd chosen a different chair. He would, at this moment, have vastly preferred his central chair on the bridge. Looking into the trusting, wounded eyes of the young woman, he felt more locked onto an irrevocable path heading for a deal with the devil.

"And what of me?" Cass asked in a tremulous voice. "You spoke of Asylum. They said you would protect me!" Archer decided he would have a talk with his people – later.

"I'm sorry. I told you we would be gone soon, and cannot take you with us."

"Do you know…" Her voice broke with her fear. "Do you know what they will do to me for running away?"

He felt really frustrated by the orders that bound him. "I'm truly sorry. Perhaps later diplomats we send can –." She dashed to him, falling to her knees, clinging to his leg. The others had closed to intercept her, but too late.

"Please. There won't _be_ a 'later' for me! They will beat me to _death_ for what I've done. I can't _stand_ it any more! I can't take _another_ _beating_. Please. I'm _afraid_! Please help me. _I can't stand it any more_!"

Archer tried to remove her hands from his leg, but the kneeling girl held his right leg with a death grip, nails digging into the material at his thighs.

He was about to pull more firmly at the desperately pleading girl's grip when, to his surprise and that of the rest of his crew, Tia Anlor stepped forward and dropped to her knees before him, next to Cass. She reached out and grasped his left leg as Cass clung to his right, her body a mirror image of the other's. "Captain, which does your race prize more highly; gold or dilithium?"

Archer stared at the golden complexioned girl, as surprised by her quiet question as he was by her behavior. "Miss Anlor?" He asked, glad that the UT was working at full function. It was a useful if always disconcerting tool. Though neither of their lips moved to match their words, he could understand them both in fluent English, rather than deciphering the Auran's best efforts.

"When the Silurians conquered Aura, they started to systematically strip my world of all its gold. They even used us, as I have found we are unique. Your blood is based on iron, my people's on gold, and they will have it all if they must keep us forever.

"But you rescued and freed me, buying my freedom with 'matter resequenced' gold, more than can be drawn from my body in a thousand lifetimes. Though you could have owned me and commanded my services, you set me free.

"Your people once prized gold even as the Silurians do. Now it is your Scientists who prize dilithium. So I am forced to wonder; which do your people prize more? My blood…" She took his left wrist, turning it over to reveal a large stain dark in the material of his sleeve, "…or hers?"

Archer looked at the incriminating stain on his sleeve for a long moment, vividly remembering when it was bright red, flowing from the face of the girl whose position on his right knee so mirrored the Auran's. He remembered her falling into his arms, weeping for his help, and had not noticed when she'd bled on his arm.

He looked from one young woman to the other, one blonde and comely of feature, though her eyes, blackened though they were, were like a fawn's in the light of an oncoming car, and then to the golden girl seemingly no older, who Archer had never stopped expecting to surprise him.

"Trip?"

"Cap'n?"

"Tell that guard to get a message to his Majesty. Tell him Captain Archer of Earth wishes to see him."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

xxx

When Captain Archer led his crew in formal march to the closed and guarded doors of the Hall of Audience, decorated with the golden, blue and brown arms of his Highness' line, he struck the door firmly, gratified to hear a sonorous boom within. He waited a long measure and then hit it again, and gave another measured wait.

If these knocks were intended to represent the virtues the court espoused, fortitude, prudence, temperance, justice, liberty, equality and truth, he was determined to make sure those within were reminded of that.

When the door opened, Archer was ready for the traditional question, and for the curve he intended to throw these people. "Who comes here?"

"Captain Jonathan Archer and his crew, representing the nobility and common men and equal women of Earth, Tia Anlor representing Aura and Cass, representing the people who are governed and protected by this illustrious assembly." He could see the man was somewhat flustered, and took no pity upon him at all.

"What come you here to do?"

"Ensure Justice, which in every measure distinguishes the good man."

This was definitely not the usual answer the man expected, and it was clear he was not at his best when improvising. After a few moments, his "wait here" was distinctly subdued.

Archer was content to wait. He had already covered his plan with his people in detail; there was no need for any further instructions. When the door opened again, the man seemed to have recovered some of his aplomb. "It is the order of the Sovereign that you enter."

"On behalf of the people of Earth, Aura and Beta Aragon 3, we accept his gracious invitation." Archer replied, knocking the man's equilibrium out from under him once again.

It was petty, he knew, because it was so easily done. But he had wanted to establish himself, because this next challenge would be far from easy.

There was no long line of Honor Guard in the huge Hall this time, just two black uniformed Officers standing facing inward ten paces from the dais with its three purple trimmed thrones. Seated this time about the walls of the room were the assembled nobility of this world. As Archer approached the center of the chamber, the two officers, the one on the right being Monec, brought their swords together with a sharp ring, blocking his way.

It was little more than Archer had expected, and much as he'd planned for. Without further orders his crew fanned out as he had directed, so to his left were Tucker, Mayweather and Sato, while to his right, one space removed, stood Reed. Anlor led Cass into the vacant space at Archer's right before taking her place at Reed's other side. Archer was sure the arrangement was unusual to them, and was sure that the significance was not lost upon any of them.

"Starship Captain Archer," the Sovereign began without even the small measure of warmth that had characterized his earlier greeting, "we are gratified at your prompt return, and to see that you have returned the prisoner to us. We trust that you have contacted your government, and there will be no further misunderstandings between us."

The soldiers returned their swords to the 'Carry' position, and Archer noticed that the other soldier was Strater, clearly anticipating the return of his 'charge' to him. Archer was sure that the other man was going to be quite disappointed. He made no move to pass through the 'gate' thus opened by the raising of the swords.

"Up to now, your Highness, there has been no misunderstanding between us, and I trust there still will not be. You're right; I have communicated with my superior, who has ordered me to focus my attention on my original assignment. And in fear of being left to the treatment she has thus far received, Cass has again appealed to me for aid. I must therefore ask what is to become of her."

"I can honestly tell you, Captain, that her life will not be significantly different after we have concluded our business than it was before you came."

"Then, sir, I must decline your hospitality, and your generous offer of trade."

x

The bomb had the effect upon the assemblage that he'd hoped for. The King was surprised, his people ranging about the walls monumentally so. "What?" He demanded.

Archer looked up at the man high on the dais, his face like iron. "As I have said, we have nothing in our laws that could justify to us the way this young woman has been treated. I am forced to wonder, if she is within the 'safety' of your walls, what about her fellow citizens outside them?

"My orders are to open diplomatic relations with your people and to negotiate for the rights to mine dilithium. But while relations with friendly civilizations are always desirable, I have to wonder if the next diplomats who set foot here will find Cass - or her grave.

"There are other worlds with dilithium, perhaps not with such rich deposits as this one, but it has been dramatically pointed out to me…" he raised his arm so the King could see the dark stain upon his sleeve, "… we don't know the rate of exchange between dilithium and blood. I, however, consider it to be too high."

"So you choose to defy the orders of your government?" The King asked challengingly.

"They may not like me much for it, but I will be able to live with that. I do not condone what I have seen here, and I will have to convince my government that there is no commodity that is worth being paid for in blood."

Akir stood up, and Archer could feel his anger as if in waves as the man stepped down from the dais, moving slowly in carefully restrained fury until he was on the level, then up close before he spoke, his tone deadly. "Captain Archer, do you know what _kind_ of man I consider one who would willfully disobey the orders of his government and superiors in this manner?" They were inches apart now, but Archer did not give ground, putting them almost nose to nose, eye to eye and one as hard as the other. "A man who would defy the direct orders of a superior officer for a concern for a person he never met before yesterday?"

"No." Archer said tightly. "What kind?" His eyes were still locked on the King's smoldering ones when the other grasped his arms tightly and he grinned.

"A man I can deal with!" He boomed with a happy bellow. Archer had barely restrained himself in time from striking the man, but the other's face had gone instantly to a joyful demeanor. "A man of honor I can trust!"

Akir released him and beckoned to a man in the corner; who approached bearing a large, wet cloth as the Enterprise team tried to keep up with the changes which signaled the disappearance of tensions. Akir passed the moist cloth to Cass, who turned away and brought it to her face, scrubbing vigorously.

"Captain Archer, you asked what this young lady had stolen that was of such consequence." Cass turned back, flipping her blonde hair back with a practiced toss of her head. Her lovely face was stunningly radiant, bearing no hint of bruising, nor marks of any kind. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my beloved daughter, her Royal Highness Princess Cassiopeia, who has stolen the hearts of her people."

Epilogue

A few minutes later Archer again found himself seated upon the dais, this time having been installed once again in the right throne. Princess Cassiopeia sat next to her father in the left throne, and the Enterprise crew was accorded places of appropriate honor. Before them, resting on a pedestal, was a large and ornate document. "Ambassador Archer, you see before us the treaty containing the terms we settled upon last evening. In short, it defines a state of peace between our worlds, provides for the further exchange of diplomats, and gives your people exclusive mining rights to up to 1 percent of our dilithium each year so long as I or my daughter shall rule. It requires only our signatures and it is done."

So saying, he produced a pen and stood, bending over the document to inscribe his name in flowing script; then handing it to his daughter for her signature, and then to Archer, who signed it with a significant flourish.

"And now, Ambassador, I am sure you are wondering 'why'."

"I think I have some of the answers," he said as they were again seated, "but I'd welcome them all."

"Well, you know there were six other races who have vied for our resources. All were given exactly the same tests. They cared more for dilithium, or were unwilling to change from their focus. The appeal of the helpless and downtrodden fell upon their deaf ears, and their appeal for dilithium fell on our deaf ones."

"It was not an easy test all around." Cassiopeia told him. "We were determined not to openly _lie_, so at times the truth had to be 'imaginative'."

"And Strater, to whom you are bound for life?" He asked, indicating the soldier who stood at the corner of the dais nearest the Princess.

"You guess correctly. Strater is in command of my Personal Guard. He is my chief bodyguard, and as such he is bound to me for life – whichever of us goes first."

"Interesting treatment he gave you in the corridor."

"Yes, but you'll recall you saw him slap me only once. Everything else was very carefully orchestrated. The blood the other time was self-inflicted, in the hall just before I rapped on your door." She gave him a wry smile. "But I confess that I am relieved it's finally over. I don't mind an occasional bloody nose in a good cause, but being slammed into that wall seven times now was really starting to get aggravating."

The King rose, a signal for everyone else to rise as well. "Well, Ambassador, I suspect your fellows will be most anxious to hear about your success in procuring this treaty. And I assure you that you shall each be welcome here whenever you should wish to visit us again."

"Thank you, your Majesty." He shook the King's hand, and then took the Princess'. "My compliments, your Highness. You fooled us all quite well."

"Are you saying I make a good assault victim?" His jaw dropped and she giggled, but quickly repressed it. "I beg your pardon, Captain, but you do 'astonished' better than anyone I know; I just had to see it one last time."

"Quite all right; your Highness. Working with you has been a true pleasure." He bowed low, kissing her hand.

"Why, Captain. You do 'gallant' even better."


End file.
